


My Blood

by SoftLullaby



Series: Embers of Heaven's Wrath [3]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Original Character(s), Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 21:57:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11792289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftLullaby/pseuds/SoftLullaby
Summary: When Heavenliegh comes face to face with a demon from her past, how will she fare against him? Can she hope to survive the encounter, or will she fall to him yet again?





	My Blood

_So much blood…_

Tenacious motes of soil clung to the substance darkening a slender hand, angry crimson slashes spoiling the pale cream of unsullied skin. Blurred blue eyes met with marred flesh and beheld as the fingers curled toward palm in an unconscious action, though far too weak to achieve their goal. Agony had clouded what remained of their strength and had stripped the body raw. Nerve endings rebounded, meekly begging for release from these throes, but what had sparked the torment?  _What had happened..?_

Vaguely, the priestess was made aware of a trickling dampness winding slow, relentless pathways down the side of her face as she regained cognizance. It pooled beneath her, drowning the grains of earth beneath her in the tangible remnant of her suffering; a reminder of something which had brought her so low.

Although each breath was shallow and marked with the echo of tenderness in her side, she could hear as they thundered within her ears. The sound was almost deafening; the beat of her heart drowned in the midst of chaotic, uneven breaths.

_My love…_

The simple thought of the death knight was enough to force her to move; he would not see her like this. She would be strong, if only for him. She would not be weakened no matter what, or who, assailed her. She had promised to stand tall, strong and defiant. Light, she had promised. No foe would destroy her – not before she got the chance to fight back. And she  _would_ fight. She  _must_ fight.

Somehow, she dragged her diminutive frame to its knees, and while one palm flat on the ground steadied her, the other went to her belt. There, a familiar token of a friendship that had blossomed into something more greeted her, strengthening her. The petals were stiff with age, having long since departed the world of the living, yet they were firm and unyielding like iron. It brought a short-lived smile to her lips, before it faded in lieu of the fear which danced behind her vision; even that blade’s dulled edge was enough to erase the blessing of newfound fortitude and courage.

“Still so beautiful in your pain.”

The familiar voice sliced through her like a sharpened blade, panic washing in caustic waves over already-heightened nerve endings. The sound of it nearly drove her back to the ground but the priestess would not be cowed. Not now, not ever.  _I promise… I will always fight…_ And she would, even if the foe was one such as he; even if the cruel gaze of Commander Aurelius Grimm was that which greeted her own, she would not back down.

To back down would be to fail, and possibly to die, and she would not accept that fate.

“Grimm,” she said softly, swallowing hard past the lump which had formed in her throat. “I had not thought to see you here.” The words were neutrally spoken, devoid of inflection, spoken slowly as to keep the tremor from them. She would not let him see her weakness.

His laughter was soft, beautiful, and so abrasive it began to shred the hard-won resolve she had found. Yet he said nothing more; a moment later she felt fresh agony spiking through her skull. In that instant, she lost the strength to hold herself upright and crashed face-first into dirt muddied by her very own barely-congealed blood. The gore and filth painted her skin, coating her cheek as larger grains pressed their way into her open eye.

_No!_

The silent scream exploded in her brain and she reached instinctively within herself. Deep in an untouched part of her soul she grasped that familiar, comforting warmth. A light shimmered at the edges of her vision as she tugged desperately at the serenity inside of her, dragging it further and further to the surface.  _I cannot let him win!_ With the words resounding in her mind, she twisted around to face her attacker and flung her hand toward him.

Warm amber light illuminated her palm and, with that single, swift action, trickled downward through her fingertips only to be released in a brilliant, blinding flash. The heat exploded from her, bursting in the direction of her single most hated foe.

Barely given time to recognize the threat hurtling his way, Grimm stood motionless, smug smile curving grotesque lips as his fingers confidently grasped the pommel of his sword. A moment was all that passed before shock registered on his face and the holy energy struck him square in the torso. Unexpectedly, he stumbled to a knee, his armor crashing heavily down with him. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his brown eyes upon the prone priestess before him.

All at once, the fire within her seemed to fade as she was confronted by the single most terrifying figure she had ever truly known. Images of all that he had done – to the other priestesses, to herself – forced their way into her brain, and she dropped her hand to the mud at her side. Fear sliced through her courage, shredding the resolve she had been able to clutch around her for the briefest of moments. This man had the power to destroy her, and they both knew it.

As he rose to his feet, his bulky, armored frame towered over her. The simple plate armor had once been immaculate and well-cared-for, but time had obviously changed that. The steel was a dingy grayish color, wrought with the dents of battle, dirty from ill use and the elements. The man wearing the armor was no less aged; his brown hair now held wisps of white, the shadow of a coming beard barely covering the furrows forming in his skin. At one time he might have known kindness, but cruelty was all that existed within the shell of the warrior. Cruelty and a penchant for endless, soul-wrenching suffering.

 _But_   _why mine..?_

The question cut through the fog of fear in her brain and she lifted her gaze to his, pleading, as if this single act might be enough to turn the tide. Yet the both of them knew, simply knew, that it would not do any such thing. Long before his boot-clad foot connected to her face, resulting in a sickening  _snap_ as the bone splintered, she had been prepared for retaliation. Yet inside, some part of her still rebelled. The fear would not claim her entirely, and though she could manage no words she flung another bolt of holy light at him.

She may be defeated, but it would not be without a fight!

The might of her magic would not cow the man, no matter how deep she reached into that font of righteous energy deep within herself. All her attacks managed was to make the man angry, and eventually he brought his boot heavily down upon her hand. Fingers cracked as he pinned them between the cold ground and his foot. She was powerless to stop the scream which tore free from her constricted throat. Instant tears sprang to her eyes at the blinding, sudden pain. The ever-present torment bore down upon her, its weight excruciating compared to that of his boot.

_Light help me…_

* * * * *

Darkness had claimed her vision some time ago and as the priestess gradually came to her senses, she realized that she was being dragged. The loose dirt and debris beneath her bit painfully into her side and the sensitive flesh of her arm, but even that agony was lost to the dull throbbing ache tormenting her entire small frame. She was weak, disoriented, and afraid. Biting down upon the helpless scream which threatened to rip past the obstruction in her airways, she instead reached the unbroken hand toward her belt, for that familiar trinket.

A new pain clawed at her, for she had failed. She had been far too weak to stand against the memory which was Commander Aurelius Grimm, and as she closed her fingers around the resilient and long-dead flower, she pulled it free. Tears, perspiration and blood obscured her vision as she laboriously dragged the trinket free.

With the last dregs of her strength, she reached that very hand toward the battlement her foe was dragging her past. She grasped as high as she could manage, the flower dropping soundlessly to the ground. Yet her strength was failing her and the blackness was taunting the edges of her vision. She was lost, and her hand slipped away, and she prayed that someone would take note of the bloody handprint which had left its mark.

 _I stood against him._ The words echoed in her brain, but she was incapable of speaking them aloud; she had no more strength left to fight the rising well of darkness which tugged along the edges of her vision.

_I stood against him, and I failed._

“Light help me…” she finally managed to whisper as her eyelids drooped down, cutting off the last vestige of illumination which had danced before her failing eyes.  _I love you… More than anything… I hope you know that I tried…_

Yes, she had tried. She had stood before the single most terrifying foe she had ever before known, and she had failed.

With that failure, she would die. And he would not even know her fate. That, more than the death itself, more than the pain of what she had endured at the cruelty of a man such as Grimm – that was what would haunt her most. She would die, and the single most important person in her life would never know. He would only know that again, she had vanished. Again… she had left him without so much as a single word of goodbye.

_And he will never know that I died, loving him…_

With that last thought, she finally sank, defeated, into the void of blessed unconsciousness which wrapped its comforting embrace around her like a warm, safe cocoon, with the promise that this pain would be her last.


End file.
